


Be Careful What You Wish For

by Brynn_Jones



Category: Nero Wolfe - Rex Stout
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 05:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9533960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynn_Jones/pseuds/Brynn_Jones
Summary: Archie finds himself in a precarious situation. Again.





	

Fourteen minutes after three o'clock in the afternoon found me mounting the steps to number 237 on West 52nd Street and praying that nobody was home. I rang the doorbell, waited half a minute, rang again and after another minute repeated the process one more time. When I was content no one was really at home, I put on my leather gloves, pulled out a key and innocently unlocked the door. I bated my breath, listening intently to the slightest sound of movement in the old brownstone and when I heard none, I slowly proceeded into the hallway and tiptoed my way up the stairs.

I looked around, committing to memory the layout of the wooden furniture that adorned the rooms around me. I was looking for one piece in particular, an almost hundred year old oak cabinet that was supposedly stolen from our client. There was a chance, of course, that our client was actually a big fat liar and the precious piece of furniture is not his at all, but Wolfe's working theory for now was that Mr. Morgan was telling us the truth.

I'd just finished with what seemed to be a spare room and was on my way to go next door, when I heard a slight noise. I tensed, listening for another sound, trying to determine whether what I'd just heard was an unwelcome person or it was the old house itself. When it didn't come, I pulled out my revolver and inched out of the spare room, intent on figuring out the source of the noise. I went from room to room, searching the whole floor for any sign of life, all the while hoping I find none. Little did I know I’d wish for the complete opposite a few moments later.

Once I arrived in the master bedroom, I saw something that made me curse in such a way that I never even repeated it to Wolfe. There in the middle of the room, bleeding through a very expensive carpet was our client with a gaping hole in the middle of his chest. I quickly searched the rest of the brownstone and when I found no one else, dead or alive, I returned to examine Mr. Morgan. He was already getting cold, so he’d been lying there for a while. I looked around, searching for any indication of what he might have been doing here or who might have killed him and when I was satisfied I've seen everything there was to notice, I went to retrace my steps and make sure I didn't leave any trace of my presence in the house. I then quickly left to call Wolfe.

My boss wasn't in a good mood when I told him. "What is this, Archie? A flummery?"

"No sir, it's the real deal, our paycheck is lying stiff dead on the carpet of our only suspect and I can't even notify the police, because I would have to admit I stole into the house."

Wolfe went silent for a minute, very likely pursing his lips in thought, and then completely unnecessarily barked out: "Come home, I'm in the plant rooms."

I didn't grace that with an answer and just hung up.

It was twenty-seven minutes after five when I entered the plant rooms and thirty-two minutes after five when I was finally acknowledged: "You didn't kill him, did you?"

I shrugged. "You tell me, did I?"

Wolfe huffed, probably realizing the absurdity of his question. "And you're sure it was Mr. Morgan?"

I nodded. "Yes, looking a bit paler and certainly more perforated, but it was him."

"We can expect Inspector Cramer paying us a visit after the body is found - he likes to keep track of our client list since that Jameson case last year."

The Jameson case was a double murder that Cramer had had gigantic problems solving only because he hadn't been aware one of the victims' mother was our client. It had even gone as far as him almost getting sacked for incompetence. Needless to say, once he’d found out, he’d closed the case in two hours without needing any assistance from us and kept his job.

And true enough, at exactly two minutes after eleven the following morning, the red-faced inspector rang the doorbell. He was in a mood good enough to answer my bidding of good morning but not good enough to let me take his coat.

"You'll not be eating any stuffed pigeons this month, Wolfe," he began before even he even sat down, "your client’s popped his clogs and he took his paycheck with him."

Wolfe raised his eyebrows. "Sit down, Mr. Cramer, I like eyes at a level."

Cramer took in a calming breath and sat down. "Do you deny Mr. Morgan was your client?"

Wolfe told him ‘no’ without shaking his head.

“He was found dead yesterday night at number 237 of West 52nd Street," the inspector continued.

I couldn't keep my gob shut and asked, "Shot?"

Cramer threw me a glare. "Yeah, how do you know? You did him in?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No, but when I was burglaring that house yesterday, I saw him bleeding on the floor."

The inspector scowled. "Yeah, right,” he scoffed. “You talk too much, Goodwin, ever been told that before?"

"Never," I lied.

Had Cramer taken a lesson from the barbershop case last year as well, he would have remembered not to discard everything I say as a load of bollocks. As it was right now though, he thought I was lying and I wasn't about to say otherwise. I just pouted for show and turned to Wolfe, "Any chance his mother will hire you?"

My employer looked at me in slight annoyance. "She's a woman, Archie, how am I supposed to know? What is your opinion of her?"

I shrugged, completely ignoring Cramer's glare. "She's a bit tight-fisted, that's for sure, she loves her son though. I give it fifty fifty."

"That's not much."

I smiled. "Alright, I’ll give you forty to sixty."

"That she'll call?"

I shook my head. "That she won't."

Wolfe nodded hesitantly. "I'll take that. Mr Cramer," he turned to the inspector, "do you need our assistance or did you just come to interrogate us?"

"Neither, I don't want your assistance and I know I won't be able to interrogate you. I just came to have a normal conversation. I gathered from your dialogue that you didn't expect this turn of events."

I smirked at him. “Oh no, we’re always prepared our clients drop dead on us.”

Cramer snarled.


End file.
